


Romance

by FredAndGinger, SpinalBaby



Series: Danger Days [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Fluff, M/M, The best wedding in all the wastelands, Wedding Fluff, to make up for everything we put you through so far, you deserve this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredAndGinger/pseuds/FredAndGinger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinalBaby/pseuds/SpinalBaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what Courfeyrac thinks is a "long engagement" he and Musichetta convince Grantaire and Enjolras to finally tie the knot, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the face of recent events.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You’re <i>pregnant</i>? How is that even-” </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“No! God! Grantaire and I are engaged! Courfeyrac!” Their leader was red in the face, looking more than a little embarrassed and rather irritated he hadn’t gotten to give his more formal impromptu speech to deliver the news.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Oh, I knew that.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance

**Author's Note:**

> **Art**  
> [Enjolras](http://spinalbaby.tumblr.com/post/145486011734/enjolras-from-romance-part-of-the-danger-days) by SpinalBaby  
> [The Wedding](http://novartss.tumblr.com/post/147728810983/spinalbaby-er-romantic-the-wedding-will-always) by Novartss  
> 

Enjolras and Grantaire joined their friends by the fire, having come back from their quiet moment alone. Courfeyrac was still telling stories about Jehan’s daring heroics, so they hadn’t missed much. 

Enjolras cleared his throat as Courfeyrac finished one of his stories, “Everyone, there’s something I’d like to tell you.” He glanced around the fire, still holding Grantaire’s hand. He looked a little more nervous than usual, but also excited. 

“Are you dying? Again?” Courfeyrac asked, looking concerned and kind of upset. 

“No-”

“You’re _pregnant_? How is that even-” 

“No! God! Grantaire and I are engaged! Courfeyrac!” Their leader was red in the face, looking more than a little embarrassed and rather irritated he hadn’t gotten to give his more formal impromptu speech to deliver the news.

“Oh, I knew that.” Courfeyrac said, sounding a little disappointed that it wasn’t something more interesting. 

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” Combeferre asked, looking slightly scandalized. 

“It was kind of a spur of the moment thing,” Enjolras said, “In the back of Courfeyrac’s car on the way over here.” He tried to explain to his friend, wanting him to know he hadn’t intentionally left him in the dark on such an important matter. 

“Yeah, but he kind of asked me five years ago though.” Grantaire added. 

“You asked him _five years ago_?” Combeferre asked, turning to fix his friend with a stare, as if trying to convey his betrayal with his eyes. It was mildly effective. 

“I mean, to be fair it was the second time we met, and you didn’t actually know he even existed then…” Enjolras rambled, feeling guilty. 

“You never told your friends about me?” Grantaire asked, looking at his fiance in shock, “I mean I never told my friends, but I didn’t have any. I totally would have told them if I had them.” 

Enjolras looked uncomfortable, “I would have told them, but I hardly saw them- and it was kind of like a secret summer romance thing-” He shot Jehan a glare as he heard the ginger ‘awww’ at him. “I didn’t exactly mean to _not_ tell them.”

“I guess I can’t be mad. It was five years ago.” Grantaire said with a shrug, “You were young and stupid.” 

Enjolras made a huff of disapproval, “Hey, I wasn’t the one who got caught five years ago.” 

“This is true.” Grantaire said, looping his arm around the blond and kissing him on the head, “We were both young and stupid.” 

“Fine. We were both young and stupid.” Enjolras repeated, as if reaffirming it to himself.

Everything died down after that, and after an hour or so of talking by the fire, everyone decided that it was time to go to sleep. There was only one problem. 

“Wait!” Courfeyrac cried as Grantaire and Enjolras settled down onto the softest bit of sand they could find, “You guys can’t sleep together!” 

“What.” Grantaire looked like he was already halfway asleep and not prepared to deal with this right now. 

“Why?” Enjolras asked, glaring. 

All attention was now on the three of them, Jehan was lightly tugging on Courfeyrac’s arm, trying to wordlessly tell him to let it go so they could sleep. Courfeyrac ignored him. 

“You’re engaged! You can’t be sharing a bed before marriage.” Courfeyrac huffed, indignant.

“To be fair, that isn’t a bed.” Bossuet pointed out. 

“And they shared a bed before.” Gavroche chimed in. “At the Patron Minette’s place.” The child wiggled his eyebrows at Grantaire. Grantaire determinedly did not wiggle his eyebrows back. 

“Gavroche!” The blond hissed, looking embarrassed in the light of the dying fire. 

“Wait, did you two do the do in the Patron Minette’s back room?” Jehan asked, his eyes growing wide. A smile was slowly forming on his face, like someone had just told him that Santa was real. “Really? Was Montparnasse there?” 

“No.” Enjolras said flatly. 

“I mean, not in the room.” Grantaire qualified. Enjolras glared at him. 

Jehan made a delighted squeak, before bursting into laughter, “Oh my god, guys. This is great, really. Oh man, he’s probably so amused right now, he’s probably playing the tapes for Marius and Cosette as we speak.” 

“The tapes?” Enjolras asked faintly. 

“Yeah, he’s got cameras in every room.” Jehan said gleefully. “This is fucking hilarious. I can’t wait to see! Maybe Claquesous will make popcorn.” 

“He’s joking.” Courfeyrac said, “Otherwise there’d be a tape of us… Wait, sweetie?” 

“Uh, yeah babe.” Jehan said, not sounding convincing as he swallowed his laughter, “Joking.” 

“Let’s just go back to sleep.” Combeferre said, “We can talk about this in the morning.” 

Enjolras groaned, but fell back into the sand to lie down, Grantaire sinking down next to him. They could hear Jehan and Courfeyrac quietly bickering in the background.

“Well.” Grantaire said quietly, “That could have gone better.” 

“Yeah.” Enjolras mumbled, burying his face into Grantaire’s chest, “So much better.” He said, sounding sleepy.

…

Months passed without the subject being brought up again. Grantaire was injured badly at one point, along with Jehan, and after they healed, the Amis abandoned their journey north temporarily so they could rest. 

They found a temporary base that became more permanent as time went on. It was kind of perfect, actually. It was a small motel with only ten usable rooms. Half of it had been hit in the bombings that had swept the wastelands. There was running water though, and enough room for Combeferre to have a lab. 

When Grantaire was all better, Courfeyrac sat down with Musichetta, cornering him and looking serious. 

“Grantaire. I know it’s been a couple months since you and Enjolras have talked about getting married.” Musichetta began. 

“Yeah?” He asked, “Don’t people normally stay engaged for a while?” 

“Yeah, sometimes.” Courfeyrac said, “But we were thinking, you know, since stuff’s been kind of shitty for you and Enjolras lately, what with you getting shot and all. Maybe you guys would want to have the wedding?”

“Wouldn’t that just be inviting trouble? Can you see Enjolras planning a wedding? Because I can and it’s a scary thought.” Grantaire said. 

“Don’t worry,” Musichetta said with a dangerous grin, “We’ll plan everything.” 

…

“So.” Grantaire said, walking awkwardly into the room he shared with Enjolras, “I had a conversation with Musichetta and Courfeyrac today.” 

“Oh?” He asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, cleaning his gun. 

“Yeah, they were thinking that since we’re back in a populated area we should get married soon.” Grantaire said, sitting next to him. It was a tactic to get out of the way of gunfire, Courfeyrac’s plan was far more extensive than he was letting on and he was a little worried. 

“The wedding?” Enjolras looked up from his gun, setting it down beside him on the bed. He paused, “Huh. It’s been a long time since we talked about it… but yeah, that sounds nice. Something small, don’t you think?” The blond asked. 

“Uh yeah, something small.” Grantaire said, sounding a little on edge, “Yeah, Courf had something a little bigger planned…” 

“Oh, you and Courfeyrac are planning it?” Enjolras seemed surprised at first, but then smiled, “That’s actually a good thing, I don’t know if I can plan a wedding. And I’m sure you can keep Courf in check. Something tells me he’s going to want to go wild with this whole affair.”

“I’m not really planning it, I kind of told him and Musichetta that as long as they didn’t do anything over the top it’d be fine. But if you want it to be small I can tell him that we want a small wedding. I wasn’t really into the idea of a huge party myself.” He admitted. 

“That sounds perfect then,” Enjolras gave Grantaire a soft kiss on the cheek. “Musichetta is trustworthy.” 

“Uh huh.” Grantaire said, trying to keep the doubt out of his voice. Musichetta seemed reasonable on the outside, but he had been witness to her wedding-mania. “Trustworthy.”

… 

That was the last they talked about the wedding for about a week. Courfeyrac and Musichetta were true to their word about not worrying Grantaire and Enjolras with the planning, and they divvied up tasks to their friends to get things up. 

“Valjean,” Courfeyrac called, walking into the man’s new house unannounced, “Can I ask you a favor?” 

“Courf, we talked about this. If you don’t understand something Jehan’s talking about, you should ask Bahorel first.” The man said, sounding tired. Cosette was off with Marius and the Patron Minette, so he was more on edge with his daughter in danger. 

“No, this isn’t anything like that.” Courfeyrac said, “Can you officiate Enjolras and Grantaire’s wedding?” 

“Not officially.” Valjean said, sounding confused, “I mean it’s not legal, you’re not legal citizens, and I am not legally certified.”

“Yeah, it’s more of just a ceremony. We thought it’d cheer them up.” Courfeyrac admitted. 

“Babet is far more qualified.” Valjean said, shaking his head, “He can perform legal ceremonies.” 

“He can?” Courfeyrac asked. He wanted to ask more about it, but he shook his head, staying firm to the point. “The point is that it’s not a real wedding, but it’s real to us, you know? And it would mean a lot if you officiated, Grantaire and Enjolras both really look up to you.”

Valjean’s heart melted a little. “Is Cosette going to be there?” 

“Of course!” Courfeyrac sounded a little offended, as if Valjean was implying he wouldn’t invite everyone possible. 

“I suppose I can officiate then.” Valjean said. 

Courfeyrac hugged him. 

…

“Why are we getting so much powdered eggs, Chetta?” Joly asked as he held a shopping basket filled to the brim with boxes of it, “I thought we were making a cake, don’t you just add water?” 

“No.” Musichetta said as she raided the shelves for any form of milk, powdered or canned. “That’s city cake. We gotta make this shit from scratch.”

“This is a lot of ingredients, are you sure we need this much?” Bossuet asked as he held bags of flour. “Grantaire said it’s a small wedding.” 

“Guys, just trust me. All will be told when the time is right.” 

…

Jehan was put in charge of finding suitable clothing for the grooms. He wanted Courfeyrac’s help, but the man was busy making the two of them wedding rings. Jehan sighed, he knew he wasn’t exactly the picture of fashion and he didn’t want Grantaire and Enjolras to be upset with him. Besides, his clothes would only really fit Enjolras. 

“Combeferre,” He called, walking into the lab and startling him, “You look respectable.” 

“Do I?” He asked, looking down at his working lab coat, which was being slowly eaten by something acidic he’d dropped. 

“Normally.” Jehan qualified. “You gotta help me find them some clothes. And we’ll take Gavroche too, my kid needs a babysitter.” 

… 

The three of them ended up at an old, wrecked photo place. It had been demolished for years, probably since the first bombs dropped during the war. No one could remember what it looked like when it was standing, but apparently places like it had been all over Las Vegas. 

“I’d be worried about bugs, but the radiation must have killed them.” Combeferre said, “And it seems to have settled since the most recent bombing, we shouldn’t be in any danger.” 

“So there should still be stuff inside?” Jehan asked hopefully. 

“Probably.” Combeferre said. 

And thus began their search through the rubble. It wasn’t quite flat, there were pieces of wall that still stubbornly stood, shielding contents. 

“All I’m finding is props.” Combeferre reported after lifting yet another fake gun. Jehan seemed to be where all the women’s clothing was, finding sad little colored feathers. Combeferre pretended not to notice as the ginger stuffed most of them in his pockets. 

“We gotta keep looking, there’s got to be something somewhere!” Jehan called back. Combeferre sighed, and continued. 

“Hey guys!” Gavroche yelled. The two men looked around wildly, but they couldn’t find him, “I need some help!” 

“Gav!” Jehan cried, panicked, “Where are you?”

“Oh no.” Combeferre said, looking around wildly, “We can’t let this collapse on him, we’ve got to stay still.” 

“I’m over here!” Gavroche called, and Jehan ignored Combeferre’s advice in favor of running towards Gavroche’s voice. 

“Hang on!” Jehan called, skidding to a stop near a little hole that Gavroche could have crawled in. “Don’t worry!” 

“Here!” Gavroche’s arm appeared through the hole. Jehan clasped it and pulled, dragging out Gavroche, who was clad in a huge red coat. 

“Are you okay?” Jehan gushed. 

“Does anything hurt?” Combeferre asked.

“Did you fall?” 

“Is anything broken?” 

“What happened?” 

“Oh, the coat was a little heavy.” Gavroche said, “I just needed a little help back out.” 

Combeferre held his chest, relieved that Gavroche wasn’t in danger. Jehan picked the kid up by his arms and shook him. 

“What the fuck, Gav?” Jehan demanded, “We were so worried!” 

“What? Why?” 

Combeferre sighed. Jehan looked like he wanted to throw the kid back into the hole. 

…

Jehan grudgingly admitted that the coat was perfect. They headed to the Patron Minette’s strip club, something Combeferre had never seen before, where Jehan demanded that Combeferre wait in the car with Gavroche so the child didn’t get in any more trouble. 

He came out a few minutes later, presumably after selling most of their supplies and his soul, with a leather jacket in tow. 

“This is good, right?” He asked Combeferre. 

“Yeah,” Combeferre said, sounding impressed, “Yeah, that looks really cool.” 

Jehan beamed. 

…

“Okay guys.” Musichetta said, sitting down with Joly and Bossuet, “You’ve got to make flowers.” 

“Make flowers?” Joly asked, picturing the wilting drugstore kind his father sometimes brought to his mother in the city when she was angry. 

“Yeah, out of paper.” She said, picking up a newspaper from Tomorrow Comes. “I’ll show you.” 

She proceeded to show them how to make flowers, demonstrating four times. Bossuet and Joly copied her movements. The flowers they made were passable. Musichetta supposed they could be thrown by the flower boy. 

“Alright, you’ve got to make a bunch. I’ve got to make the cakes so I can put frosting on them tomorrow, so have fun!” 

What followed was disaster. They had completely forgotten how to make the flowers and Musichetta was no longer there to help them. Halfway through, Joly’s started looking like flowers again and Bossuet tried to take apart one of the ones Musichetta had made to see if they could figure out the steps, to no avail. 

Musichetta walked back in two hours later to find the table covered in terrible looking, crinkled messes of flowers. 

“Well.” She said, “Enjolras can hold these three. We can um… throw the other ones, I guess.” 

The boys looked extremely proud of themselves. 

…

“The wedding’s tomorrow.” Courfeyrac reminded Enjolras. 

Enjolras knew, he was looking forward to it. He was honestly really excited for the ceremony, especially since Grantaire had gotten their friends to agree to just a small get together. He and Grantaire had honestly expected to be more of a part of the planning, but aside from Jehan making sure their jackets fit and Courfeyrac showing them what their rings looked like, neither of them had been in on it at all. It was kind of weird, honestly. 

“Who’s your maid of honor going to be?” Courfeyrac asked, bringing Enjolras back to earth. 

“My maid of honor? I guess Combeferre… wait- does that make me the bride?” Enjolras looked over at Courfeyrac, “Why am I the bride?” 

“The real question is, why is Ferre your maid of honor?” Courfeyrac asked, crossing his arms, “I thought I was your best friend!”

“You are, it’s just- well, you’ve planned so much of this wedding I couldn't possibly ask you to be my maid of honor too.” Enjolras internally praised himself for his quick recovery. 

“Aw, that’s sweet!” He said, “Do I get to be a bridesmaid, or did you only want one guy up there with you?” 

“I’d like you up there too.” Enjolras smiled, “You are my best friend too.” 

Courfeyrac made a long drawn-out ‘aww’, which was thankfully interrupted by the door opening. 

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Grantaire asked, walking in. 

“Wedding planning stuff.” Courfeyrac said with a dismissive hand wave, “I’ve actually got a question for you too.” 

“You do?” Grantaire asked warily. He’d just been violently removed from the kitchen because Musichetta had some sort of surprise up her sleeve. 

“Yeah, so Enjolras is having two bridesmaids, who are you gonna have be your groomsmen?” 

“Oh yeah, I want Bossuet.” Grantaire said. 

“...And Joly?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I mean, I actually uh, kind of wanted just Bossuet. Because if Eponine was here I’d have her be my best man, but she’s not, so…” Grantaire trailed off. Enjolras took his hand. 

“Just Bossuet.” Courfeyrac said with a nod. 

…

“Hey.” Grantaire said, as they lay in bed that night. “We’re getting married tomorrow.” 

“Wait- we are?” Enjolras teased, “I had no idea!”

“Oh shut up.” Grantaire laughed, “Are you excited?” 

“Yeah, I really am.” He smiled a bit, “Are you?”

“I don’t know if I want to be tied down. I have this thing for blond dudes who tell me my nose is cute and then break it.” Grantaire joked.

“That was one time, Grantaire! God, can’t anyone get over it?” He asked playfully pushing his soon-to-be husband. “I still feel bad about it, you know.”

“Well, you should.” Grantaire said, before kissing his fiance’s forehead. “But yeah, I’m excited. It’s weird, nothing’s really going to change, you know?” 

“And yet everything is going to be different. I’ll get to call you my husband.” The blond beamed a little. He’d always been fond of the idea of marriage.

“You’re such a dork.” Grantaire said, his voice muffled by Enjolras’s hair. “I’m marrying a dork.” 

“Excuse me, I thought we all agreed that term was reserved for Marius.” Enjolras gave Grantaire a glare. “I’m a romantic. There’s a difference.” 

“Sure.” Grantaire said, “So if we get married am I taking your last name?” 

“Taking my last name? No way. We can’t both be ‘Enjolras’. That would be way too confusing.” 

“Good.” Grantaire said, “Grantaire Enjolras would be a weird name. Julien Grantaire though…” He trailed off, grinning. 

“No. That’s not even your real name.” Enjolras shook his head. “We’ll keep it Enjolras and Grantaire.” He said firmly.

“Fine…” Grantaire said, “Mrs. Grantaire.” 

“R!” Enjolras smacked him with his pillow, “No!” 

Grantaire laughed, holding his arms up to guard himself from more pillow attacks,“Fine, fine. You’re right.” 

They settled down and Enjolras was lying in Grantaire’s arms once more. 

“I love you.” Grantaire whispered, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I’m yours forever.” Enjolras mumbled, closing his eyes, “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be hectic, I just know it.” 

…

The next day was a mess. Musichetta was running around with Joly, trying to get the food where it needed to be, so they were of no help at all. Courfeyrac was off doing something that he wouldn’t tell the other Amis about, and everyone was getting a little nervous about what Courfeyrac and Musichetta were obviously planning. 

This left Bossuet and Jehan in charge, through some weird chain of command that Grantaire and Enjolras hadn’t gotten the hang of yet. They got the two of them on separate sides of the base, dressing them in their jackets and more respectable pants. Grantaire even got a tie. 

They got ready fast, as they weren’t wearing dresses or tuxes, which meant that they had a lot of free time. 

“Why can’t I leave this room?” Grantaire asked, “I’m bored.” 

“Am I not up to your entertainment standards?” Bossuet asked, feining offense. 

“No,” Grantaire said, “You and Joly are lying about something and you’re not nearly as funny when you’re keeping secrets.” 

“That hurts, Grantaire.” Bossuet said, holding his chest, “I am offended.” 

On the other side of the base, Jehan was struggling with Enjolras. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear a skirt? Because I have plenty that will fit you.” Jehan said, offering a flowy white skirt. 

“I’m sure. It’s not that I don’t want to wear one, it’s that they’re just so breezy. It’s uncomfortable.” Enjolras said, crossing his arms. 

“Beauty is pain, Enjolras.” Jehan said, offering him the skirt again. 

“No, I am not wearing that.” Enjolras said, shaking his head. “I’m going to at least be somewhat comfortable on my wedding day.” 

“Fine.” Jehan sighed, “This will have to do.”

He threw Enjolras a new pair of pants and his new coat. Enjolras adored the new coat, it was cool and red and it made him feel like a badass. He was not expecting the pants, but he supposed that his normal ones had seen better days. 

Once he was dressed, Jehan looked at him, appraising. 

“You look good. But there’s something missing.” 

“My shoes?” 

“No.” Jehan said, rummaging through his box of scarves. He’d found a slightly disheveled veil back when he lived with Montparnasse, when they had gone to an old, abandoned wedding place for a drug deal. He pulled it out, victorious. 

“What is that?” Enjolras asked, raising a brow as he looked at the sheer white thing Jehan held up. 

“Your veil! Every bride needs a veil! Hold still.” Jehan said, reaching to put it on Enjolras. Enjolras did not hold still, but Jehan was taller than him, so he was the winner of this little scrabble. He affixed it to Enjolras’s curls, trapping it in his hair with the little plastic teeth on the veil. 

“Why do I need a veil? He knows what I look like Jehan,” Enjolras whined, messing with the airy fabric. He had no idea how to get it out of his hair, it was stuck in rather well. 

“You look beautiful.” Jehan said firmly. “Plus Valjean said that they’re supposed to be at weddings. Didn’t you ever go to a wedding in New Paris? Courf told me the brides wore long veils.” 

“They did.” Enjolras admitted, begrudgingly. “I still don’t understand why I’m the bride.”

“Because you’re pretty.” Jehan said, “And short.” 

Enjolras gave the ginger a death glare, “Fuck you too.”

“You have to embrace your shortness. I know I’m shorter than Courf, I’m totally going to be the bride at our wedding.” Jehan said with a shrug. 

“You already wear dresses and veils all the time.” Enjolras countered.

“I do not wear veils.” Jehan shot back. “Suck it up, Grantaire is going to think you look great.” 

“Fine.” Enjolras huffed, giving up on arguing. He was honestly half expecting Jehan to glue the thing in his hair if he tried to remove it again. 

“Good.” Jehan said, “Now we’ve just got to wait while your groomsmen get everything ready. It’s outside, so you don’t have to go far. You just have to stay away from Grantaire.” 

…

Grantaire and Enjolras were not doing well with their orders to stay away from each other. They were bored. Jehan was bored and just teasing Enjolras about his shortness, and Bossuet was afraid he’d let whatever secret slip if he relaxed, so he was no fun. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Enjolras declared. Jehan stopped his teasing.

“Don’t you dare take off the veil.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “I just have to pee.” And he left. 

Meanwhile, Grantaire was having a similar escape situation. He distracted Bossuet into going to get him a book or something, and snuck out as soon as the man’s back was turned. 

He did not actually expect to run into Enjolras, in a veil and long red coat and barefoot, in the hall. 

“Enj!” He whispered, smiling. Enjolras hurried over to him and they hid behind a wall. 

“Thank god.” Enjolras grinned, pulling back the veil. “I was about ready to throttle Jehan. He got this stupid thing stuck in my hair.”

“I think you look beautiful.” Grantaire said, “And that’s all that matters, right?”

“Oh god, he said you’d say that.” Enjolras blushed, putting a hand in front of his face to hide his dorky smile. He felt like Marius.

“I hope Courf and Chetta finish whatever shenanigans they’re up to soon. I’m getting anxious, waiting.” Grantaire said, “And I want to be able to hang out with you again without hiding.” 

“Yeah.” Enjolras agreed. He looked Grantaire up and down for a moment, before smirking, “That’s a new coat, isn’t it?”

“Can’t be marrying someone as handsome as you in my old ripped up one, can I? Gotta be up to par.” Grantaire joked. 

“Well I think you look hot,” Enjolras said, leaning up a little to give his fiance a kiss. Jehan would have his head if he saw that.

Grantaire smiled into the kiss, before pulling away. “We’d better get back. They’re probably mad.” 

“Probably. See you soon.” He said, before giving Grantaire one more quick kiss goodbye. And with that, they parted.

… 

Bossuet and Jehan were a little mad that the two of them had escaped, but they didn’t know that they’d seen each other, so it was fine. 

Grantaire was ushered out first. He was to wait at the end of the aisle for the rest of the group. They weren’t really sure how it was supposed to work, all they had to base this wedding on were the slightly cold ceremonies of the city and romantic comedies that had survived the wastelands. But they were going to try. 

Valjean was waiting with Grantaire at the end of the aisle, wearing all black so that he’d look like the priests in the movies. Joly and Musichetta were sitting in some of the mismatched chairs, along with Marius and Cosette, back from working with the Patron Minette for the night. Montparnasse was actually there, with Gueulemer, sitting as far back as they could. 

“Nice jacket!” Montparnasse called up. Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was joking. 

“Thanks!” 

Music started playing. It was an old instrumental song that Grantaire didn’t quite recognize. It was pretty though. 

Bossuet walked up, arm in arm with Combeferre, who was followed by Courfeyrac, who walked alone. Grantaire took a deep breath, wishing that Eponine was actually here to stand by him. 

Gavroche came next, skipping up the aisle, before handing over some rings, having to dig deep in his pocket for them and producing weird odds and ends in the process. He eventually fished them out though, and handed them to Courfeyrac before sitting down. 

Jehan was next. He had a basket of paper flowers that he scattered all over the ground. 

“I made those.” Bossuet whispered, pointing to an especially fucked up looking one. 

“It looks great.” Grantaire assured him. 

Jehan sat down. The music intensified. Grantaire honestly wondered who was controlling the music. 

Enjolras was standing by the door, waiting his turn to go outside. Bahorel cleared his throat. 

“Can I walk you down the aisle?” The man asked. 

Enjolras blinked, feeling oddly touched, “Y-yeah, of course.” He’d grown very close to Bahorel over the past several months, the man becoming more like a big brother to him than anything. 

“Oh good, I’d have felt very awkward if you said no.” Bahorel said, taking his arm. They began the slow walk to the end of the aisle. “That’s a nice coat.” 

“Thanks.” Enjolras smiled, “I was told Gav found it.” 

“I heard he almost gave Jehan a heart attack. Speaking of which, you gotta promise me something, Apollo.” Bahorel said, sounding serious.

“Promise?” Enjolras asked, heart almost skipping a beat when he looked up and saw Grantaire waiting at the end of the makeshift ‘aisle’. 

“Yeah, if you have any problems with Grantaire you’ve got to come to me. Can’t have you having any domestic violence.” The man said. 

“Domestic violence? Bahorel, what are you talking about?” Enjolras looked back at him.

“I mean, you broke his nose once.” Bahorel reasoned. 

“That was _ONE TIME_.” Enjolras protested loudly. “One time!” He repeated in a whisper when he realized everyone had heard him and was now snickering.

“Whatever you say, oh fearless leader.” Bahorel whispered, trying to contain his laughter. They were nearly at the end of the aisle. “I’m proud of you though. And I’m sure Feuilly would be too.” 

Enjolras took a deep breath, feeling his eyes getting a little wet, “Thank you.” He said, as they parted at the end of the aisle. He walked up, standing across from Grantaire, looking back at Combeferre, who gave him a reassuring smile. Courfeyrac leaned around the taller man, grinning and giving him a thumbs up. Enjolras smiled.

“Hey.” Grantaire whispered as Valjean cleared his throat to start talking.

“Hey.” Enjolras echoed softly, smiling beneath the veil.

“Dearly beloved,” Valjean began, regretting letting Courfeyrac talk him into this speech, “We are gathered here today to witness these two men joined in holy matrimony. If anyone has reason to object to this, speak now or forever hold your peace.” 

“Oh man.” Enjolras heard Courfeyrac whisper, “I’ve always wanted to object.” 

"Dear Amis, you have come into this yard to seal your love in the presence of me, and your friends.” Valjean said, obviously struggling with his speech, “Marriage is a sacred union which enriches natural love. It binds those who enter it to be faithful to each other for ever; it creates between them a bond that endures for life and cannot be broken; it demands that they love and honour each other. Is this your understanding of marriage?” 

“It is.” Grantaire and Enjolras said in unison. They’d gone over this briefly with Valjean, they knew their parts. 

“Alright, then we can proceed.” He turned to Grantaire. “Do you, Grantaire, take Julien Enjolras to be your husband, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, till death do you part?” 

“Of course.” Grantaire said, sneaking a glance at Enjolras, who was smiling a stupidly happy smile. 

“Do you, Julien Enjolras, take Grantaire to be your husband, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, till death do you part?” He asked, looking at Enjolras. 

“I do.” Enjolras said. 

“Alright. May these rings be a symbol of your everlasting bond.” Valjean said, motioning for Courfeyrac to hand them the rings. Grantaire and Enjolras slipped them onto each other’s fingers. 

“You may now kiss the groom.” Valjean said. Grantaire grinned and lifted Enjolras’s veil, folding it behind him. He paused for a moment. 

“You look so amazing.” Grantaire whispered, so that only he could hear, before leaning down and kissing him. 

Their kiss was cut short by Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Joly whooping. When they broke apart and looked at their friends they saw that Musichetta was crying and Gueulemer was wiping away a single tear. Everyone else was standing and clapping. 

…

“Why are we getting in your car?” Enjolras asked Courfeyrac as he was led to the man’s car, “And why are we wearing blindfolds?” 

“Trust me.” Courfeyrac said, before shoving him in the car next to his blindfolded husband, “And don’t take off the blindfold!” 

“Can I take off the veil?” He asked. 

“No!” 

… 

They got to wherever it was that they were going quickly. Enjolras would have been paying attention, had it not been for the way Grantaire was playing with his ring as they held hands. It was distracting and a reminder of what had just happened. He was glad Grantaire was blindfolded, because he was sure he was smiling the dumbest smile. 

“We’re here!” Jehan sang. Grantaire and Enjolras were pushed out of the car and led clumsily to a place, where their blindfolds were removed. 

Before them was the park, filled with hundreds of people. It seemed that everyone in the wastelands had turned up to see them. 

“What’s going on?” Grantaire asked. 

“Well.” Jehan said, “I may or may not have told everyone that we were bringing you here for your first dance over the radio. And we may or may not have gotten The Students to come play. And Musichetta may or may not have baked fuck ton of cake.” 

“Musichetta did.” Musichetta said, “Musichetta did make a fuck ton of cake.” 

Grantaire realized that all of their friends were wearing their masks. He felt a little naked without his, but hey, it wasn’t like Tomorrow Comes _didn’t_ know what he looked like.

The crowd was cheering for them, calling for them to come have the first dance. 

“Shall we?” Grantaire asked, holding his arm out in a flourish. 

“I thought this was supposed to be small,” Enjolras blushed as he took Grantaire’s hand. He looked around at the crowd- he recognized many of the faces from his years out in the wastelands. And they were all here for him- no- them.

“I mean, I thought so too, but you know. Now we get more cake.” Grantaire reasoned as they got to the middle of the crowd. The Students began to play a slowed down version of one of their songs. It didn’t sound the greatest, but the beat was alright. A hush fell over the crowd as they started to dance. 

Enjolras smiled up at Grantaire as they danced, sharing a look more than words. The first song came to an end and Enjolras felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Mind if I steal your husband?” Montparnasse asked Grantaire, smirking. 

“Uh- well- I guess-” Grantaire didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Montparnasse whisked the blond away.

“Since when do you dance?” Enjolras asked.

“I’m a perfect gentleman you know. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way. I mean, you should have married me, we are the two most beautiful men in all the wastelands, but I forgive you.”

“You forgive me?” Enjolras made a face at him before he was passed off to Bahorel. He looked over to see Grantaire dancing with Bossuet and Joly, the two seeming to try and balance each other’s poor dancing skills out.

The two were passed around, each getting several different partners. Grantaire kept trying to make his way back to Enjolras, but he kept getting whisked away. Then he saw Enjolras, looking supremely uncomfortable with his dancing partner. From this distance Grantaire couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but it didn’t matter because whoever it was was leaning in to kiss the blond. 

Grantaire ripped away from Claquesous, who was dancing with him just to annoy him, and rushed over. He put his hand on the person’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” He yelled, “That’s my husband!” 

“And?” The person asked. It was a girl, Grantaire was pretty sure. Grantaire couldn’t think of words to express what he wanted, so he just punched her. 

“Alright!” Student One yelled from the stage, “Mosh pit!” 

“I always love mosh pits at weddings.” Student Two said dreamily as the band started in on their fastest song. A mosh pit began for real. Grantaire guided Enjolras out of it, hiding behind a wall.

“Are you alright?” Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras was laughing, a grin on his face, “Wow, yeah, I’m fantastic.” He was a little out of breath. “You really punched that chick.” Enjolras tried not to sound too excited, but it showed through anyhow.

“Yeah.” Grantaire said with a sheepish laugh, “I guess I did.” 

“I think I need a drink,” Enjolras laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I need your help getting this stupid thing out of my hair.”

“Stay here,” Grantaire said, “I’ll get some drinks. Don’t let Montparnasse dance you away again!” 

“I’ll try not to get whisked away!” Enjolras called as his husband- yes, husband now- ran off in search of drinks.

Grantaire returned moments later with two cups. He handed one to the blond and sat beside him. While they had been dancing the sun had gone down and the stars came out. 

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, lacing the fingers of his free hand with the brunette’s own larger, warmer hands. 

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked, looking away from the stars. 

“I just wanted to let you know, this is the best day of my whole life.” Enjolras blushed, squeezing his hand, “I wish we could just stay like this forever.”

“Oh Apollo,” Grantaire said, kissing his hand, which was still intertwined with his own, “Things are only going to get better from here, just you wait and see.” 

“I believe you.” Enjolras nuzzled him. “They will.”

“Hey.” Grantaire said after a beat, “How does it feel to be Mrs. Grantaire?” 

“R, you’ve ruined the moment.” Enjolras said, laughing. “It’s gone forever now.” 

“Sorry,” Grantaire said, not sounding very sorry, “I do like being able to call you my husband.” 

“I like hearing you call me your husband.” Enjolras returned, teasingly, “Especially to creepy girls.” 

“It sounds a lot more official than ‘boyfriend’.” Grantaire said. 

“It does.” Enjolras said, kissing him on the cheek, “You’re mine.” 

“I’m yours.” Grantaire agreed. “Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Art**  
> [Enjolras](http://spinalbaby.tumblr.com/post/145486011734/enjolras-from-romance-part-of-the-danger-days) by SpinalBaby  
> [The Wedding](http://novartss.tumblr.com/post/147728810983/spinalbaby-er-romantic-the-wedding-will-always) by Novartss  
> 


End file.
